


The Prelude II

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Series: To Manage Your Fortune [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F, Gen, Mentioned Khada Jhin, Minor Character Death, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29247579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: Camille asks you some questions after finding out you witnessed one of Jhin's gruesome murders.
Relationships: Camille/Reader
Series: To Manage Your Fortune [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146095
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Prelude II

**Author's Note:**

> So this sort of like...a test run for my upcoming Camille/Reader fic, which I've yet to give a title. Since my rotation schedule dictates I can't technically start working on it until next month, I decided to just barf this out to get my fix. This is more or less self-contained, because although this scene will be included in the fic, it'll probably go differently than how it did here.
> 
> I also posted a similar one-shot with Jhin/Reader to this series, which'll be a test run for another full fic centered around them called "Shattered Mirrors". Fun fact: the readers in both fics will be siblings, and they'll take place in the same place and at roughly the same time, but that's all I'll say about it for now.

The knock on your door comes earlier than usual, and you rose from your chair to greet the woman on the other side.

“Good afternoon,” Camille says with a nod. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“You could never,” you reassured her with a teasing smile, stepping aside to let her enter the house as you closed the door behind her. “Did something happen?”

“Yes; more dead bodies have been found in the streets—courtesy of the Golden Demon,” she explained, seating herself in one of the cushioned chairs at the dinner table as you went to make tea. “As I was interviewing eyewitnesses, one of them told me they saw you near the place where one of his victims was killed.”

“I was,” you confirmed, putting the kettle on the stove and leaning against one of the cabinets so you could properly face her. “The encounter itself was odd, to say the least.”

“Odd, how?”

You knitted your brow. “I was on my way home from the market when I heard the gunshots. I went to investigate, and I saw his victim before I saw Jhin himself. It was…” You thought back to his latest victims, and how their bodies had been contorted and warped in a way that was grotesque, yet compelling in that for a few, terrifying moments, you couldn’t force yourself to look away. “…disturbing.”

“That seems to be the general consensus,” she remarked, waving a hand in your direction. “Please, continue.”

“He heard me coming in his direction, but when he saw me, he didn’t… _do_ anything to me. He just…let me go.”

Camille’s eyes narrowed sharply. “He let you go.”

“He let me go,” you confirmed, perking up when you heard the kettle whistling and hurrying to take it off the stove.

“Did he say anything to you beforehand?” she asked, her measured tone doing little to conceal the agitated look in her eyes. Despite that, she still had enough patience to wait until you poured the drinks and seated yourself across from her.

“He did. He said I was…too pedestrian?” You sounded more confused than anything else. “That he refused to paint on such a boring canvas.”

Halfway through lifting her cup to her lips, she stopped upon hearing what he called you, and slowly set it back down again.

“He called you… _pedestrian,_ ” she said. Her voice remained cool, but you knew her well enough by now that she was currently itching to rip Jhin a new one—though you couldn’t fathom why.

“…Yes, but in comparison to the other names I’ve been called in the past, it wasn’t that bad,” you shrugged, taking a sip of tea. “My sister bore the brunt of their insults, but as far as everyone else was concerned, I was guilty by association.”

Camille’s grip tightened around her cup. “Where are they.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Where are they,_ ” she repeated, a note of sharpness edging into her words. “The people who called you those things.”

You paused, then slowly lowered your cup. “They’re dead.”

A moment of silence passed. “All of them?” she asked.

“Yes.” You stared into your cup, your eyes clouding over with an emotion Camille couldn’t place. “They all got what was coming to them. It’s that simple.”

You lifted your head to meet her eyes, but your gaze was pulled downward when you saw her grip on her teacup was so tight she was probably on the verge of crushing it into powder. She noticed you staring at her hands, and was quick to loosen her hold on the piece of china.

“Forgive me,” she said, gently pushing the cup away from her so she had room to steeple her fingers on the table’s surface. “But for the record, you _do_ know none of the things he called you are true, right?”

“I…what?”

“Nor are you the things the people in your past had the audacity to call you, as well,” she continued, her bright blue eyes boring into yours. “Only fools like them would think to base their personal criteria on something as shallow as one’s appearance.”

Your brain had effectively shut down, and it took you what felt like a good while before you could come up with a semblance of a proper response, wringing your hands as you bowed your head to stare into your cup once more. “I…yes, of course. I just…”

You wanted to believe they were wrong, just as Camille said they were. But even if the insults aimed at you had been _far_ kinder (if you could even call them that) than the ones your sister received, they still stung, even after all this time. Hell, maybe you _did_ deserve them—after all, you hadn’t been able to prevent the insults from reaching your sister in the first place, and maybe the two of you wouldn’t have had to leave if you’d just done more to help her, and maybe your parents wouldn’t have left if you’d _just done more—_

You felt a hand upon yours, snapping you out of your thoughts as your head whipped up a second time, only to see Camille standing before you, gazing down from where she towered above you with her bladed legs.

“My tea is cold,” she informed you. This time, however, her voice was softer, and somewhat lacking in the professional tone she always spoke with. “I apologize for not drinking it sooner.”

“No no, it’s okay!” you insisted, rising hurriedly from your seat as you went to fix her a new cup. “I apologize for agitating you enough to forget—”

She suddenly said your name, and moved her hand to rest upon your shoulder—a solid, grounding weight you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

“It’s not your fault,” she told you, her eyes holding a strange sort of intensity you’d never seen from her before.

A small nod was your only response, and you carried on with your task. You were quite grateful for it, if only because it provided a welcome distraction from everything that’d just happened earlier. You heard the sound of Camille’s footsteps as she seated herself in her chair once more, waiting until you set the teapot down and pushed the newly refilled cup towards her.

She nodded to you in thanks, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip. You smiled softly and did the same, and for a while, the two of you remained in comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of rustling curtains and the faint bustling noises from outside.

“There is a gala that will be held at Clan Arvino’s estate in two weeks,” she suddenly said, lowering her cup to gaze directly at you. “Those who received invitations are allowed to bring one guest each. I want you to come with me.”

Even as your brain shut down for the second time within the span of a few minutes, you were still able to recover quickly enough to sputter incoherently and respond in a somewhat strangled voice, “I’d love to, but I don’t have any formalwear. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your peers.”

“You could never,” she insisted, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Nevertheless, if you’re free tomorrow, we can go see my tailor and have something made for you.”

She lifted her cup and took another sip, gazing at you from over the rim. “You _will_ look beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise will answer to me, _personally._ ”

For a moment, you weren't entirely sure if that was a compliment or a threat. Knowing her, it was probably both.

“…Alright,” you eventually responded, offering her a nervous, albeit excited grin.

And if she happened to return the gesture with a small, but surprisingly warm smile of her own, neither of you mentioned it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://hyllaswriting.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hyllaswriting/)


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